


To Bucky Barnes, From Darcy Lewis

by Anogete



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Christmas Eve, F/M, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Holidays, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-16 15:25:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13056756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anogete/pseuds/Anogete
Summary: Darcy thinks looking at Bucky Barnes is a great way to pass time, but he's pretty scarce even though they live in the same building.  After a few nudges from Steve and scamming the Secret Santa gift exchange, she manages to get Bucky alone, only to realizes he's a lot more than just a hot body.  Bucky can't seem to remember how to interact with people, but Steve seems to think that the girl from the labs can help.  It doesn't take long to realize that Steve might be right.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A couple months ago, I said I was taking a break from writing until January. Turns out, that was a damn lie. A few weeks ago, I got the bug to write again and thought all of you lovely people who read my stuff might enjoy a holiday fic. Originally, this was to be a one-shot, but it went a bit long, so I've broken it into three chapters. The entire fic will be just under 20,000 words. I almost always incorporate sex in my writing, but that didn't feel right with the tone and direction of this fic, so you won't find any smut here--just some light sexual tension, flirting, angst, and a happy/hopeful ending for a very deserving Bucky.
> 
> In keeping with my usual posting schedule, I'll be updating with a new chapter each day. I wrote this quickly and during a hectic time of year for me, so please forgive any continuity errors or mistakes made. Comments are treasured. You can also reach me at anogete527@yahoo.com or on Tumblr (anogete). This author would love to hear what you think. Constructive criticism is welcome via email if you feel moved to do so (anogete527@yahoo.com).
> 
> Thank yous go out to [ChocolateGate (cocosmama)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cocosmama/pseuds/ChocolateGate) and [Bulmaveg_Otaku](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Bulmaveg_Otaku). They are excellent people and excellent betas who made time to take a look at this quickly so I could get it posted before Christmas.
> 
> I hope all of you enjoy the fic and have a wonderful holiday-you-happen-to-celebrate.

“So, what, he’s just… in his room like some kind of sulky teenager?” Darcy muttered under her breath to Jane.

Jane shrugged and plopped a second spoonful of cranberry sauce–the gelatinous kind that kept the shape of the can–on her plate. “Thor says he has issues with people, crowds.”

“We are not _crowds_ ,” Darcy replied, moving down the line as she skipped the cranberry sauce and put extra mashed potatoes on her plate. The Thanksgiving spread had been prepared by Tony Stark’s private chef and laid out on three long tables arranged in an L-shape on the far corner of the large communal kitchen and dining room. Almost all the Avengers were in the headquarters in upstate New York. Darcy was certain she was only invited because she was working with Jane, and Jane was banging Thor.

Thor was actually lagging behind Darcy in line. He had piled up a plate of turkey and was trying to figure out how to hold it while filling another plate with the side dishes. He hadn’t quite mastered holding a plate on his forearm like a waitress. Darcy felt for him; she couldn’t do that either. She’d dropped more than her share when she’d waited tables back in undergrad.

“Well, we kinda are crowds, Darcy,” Jane said. “There are almost thirty people here today.”

“We’re like… co-workers.” The main reason she’d been looking forward to this strange Thanksgiving dinner with all these extraordinary people wasn’t the food; it was ogling Bucky Fucking Barnes. He lived upstairs, but she rarely saw him. He didn’t have a reason to be anywhere near the labs, and she didn’t have a reason to be anywhere near the gym. The gym seemed to be the only place other than his apartment that Bucky Barnes cared to be. Which was a real fucking bummer, Darcy thought, because he was eye candy of the highest quality with the stubble and the shaggy hair and the muscular thighs. Strike that, the muscular _everything_. Bucky Barnes was a work of art, and she just wanted to have a pleasant Thanksgiving dinner drooling over him and a plate of Stove Top stuffing.

Now the day was in a downward slide. Tony’s chef had prepared some sort of fancy stuffing that hadn’t come out of a box–which was totally against all of the Lewis household Thanksgiving traditions–and Bucky was unwilling to be leered at by a sexually-frustrated lab assistant.

“We are _not_ co-workers.” Jane paused. “Well, _we_ are, you and me. But not with Bucky.”

“You’re my boss,” Darcy said, ladling gravy over her mashed potatoes.

Jane scrunched her nose up. “I guess technically. I don’t know; I feel like we’re more co-workers now, colleagues.”

Darcy snorted. “Yeah, but when you want your way then you’ll be the boss again.”

“True,” Jane agreed.

“Is this... wet bread?”

Darcy looked over her shoulder at Thor, who was holding a spoon piled with stuffing up to his face. He’d sounded a little horrified. She was horrified, too. Stove Top was the only good stuffing and that shit was _not_ Stove Top. “Yeah, that’s wet bread,” she told Thor.

He looked at her, his expression incredulous, before tentatively bringing the spoon up to his mouth for a taste.

“Don’t eat off the serving spoon,” Steve Rogers told Thor. It was too late, though. Thor had already decided the wet bread was agreeable and had taken another bite directly from the large spoon that had been stuck in the pan of stuffing.

“Hey, Captain Hottie,” she said, leaning back to look around Thor. Steve looked up at her with that little bit of annoyance and embarrassment in his eyes. “Why are you letting your BFF miss out on Thanksgiving dinner?”

“He doesn’t like crowds,” Steve replied.

“Told you,” Jane muttered under her breath.

“That’s lame,” Darcy said.

Steve narrowed his eyes at her. “I’m going to take him a plate.”

“Better take two,” she replied. “He probably works up an appetite with the amount of time he spends in the gym and running laps around the building.” She turned back to the table of food and added, “Working on that perfect ass.”

“I heard that, Ms. Lewis,” Steve said.

She hadn’t really meant for him to hear it, but that’s what you get when you spend time with superheroes with super hearing. “Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?” she asked leaning back to look at him again.

“Would you like to take Bucky his two plates of food?” he asked, raising his brows.

“I’m not encouraging his anti-social behavior, Captain Hottie. You’re the only enabler around these parts.”

“You know I hate when you call me Captain whatever,” he said, putting too much turkey on his plate. What was it with these guys and turkey? Potatoes were where it was at.

Darcy smiled sweetly at him. “I know you do.”

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He liked to run the fence around the perimeter of the property. There was a little patio with a few concrete tables and benches for employees to eat their lunch just below the lab. A large, sloping lawn extended out almost fifty yards before the fence rose up from the ground to keep out the world. Sometimes, when she needed a break from the lab, she’d sit out there and hope she saw him run past. It wasn’t like she could see much that far away, but she could make out the way his body moved as he looped around the facility. And what a body it was.

This afternoon it was cold enough to see her breath, but she was still out there in a puffy coat, two scarves, and a pair of mittens. Her ass was ice cold from the concrete bench she was sitting on, but the coffee in the travel mug she sat on the table in front of her was keeping her warm enough for babe watching on an early December day.

Bucky was running with Steve today. They looked like well-oiled machines as they made their fourth pass in just ten minutes. She wasn’t sure if she could make one pass around the perimeter in that amount of time. In fact, it might take her twenty to huff and puff her way around. Maybe she should use the gym. Seeing him up close would definitely be an incentive to exercise on a regular basis.

It still bothered her that he hadn’t come to Thanksgiving dinner with the team. Spending the holiday alone in your room just seemed so sad. She wanted him to be happy. Not that she actually knew him or anything, but she’d read his file and knew what he’d been through. His file–or at least the sanitized semi-public version of it–was mandatory reading for anyone who worked in the Avengers facility, mostly because there was still a very real possibility that HYDRA’s programming was alive and well inside his head. Employees needed to know how to act if the unthinkable happened and the Winter Soldier got unleashed.

Darcy thought the Winter Soldier was pretty hot, but that was probably because she’d never had to run from his killing machine ways. Maybe she liked bad boys a little more than she should. That wasn’t really a crime, especially when it was all just fantasy. Right? Right.

The two super soldiers were coming around the bend in the distance. She sipped her coffee and tracked them as they made their way along the fence until they were almost directly across the lawn from her. They never faltered, their legs and arms pumping away. Except this time Steve slowed until he came to a stop, hands on his hips. Bucky slowed and turned around to look at his friend.

Darcy furrowed her brows as they spoke to one another. She couldn’t hear them from a half a football field away, but she appreciated the pause in action so she could run her eyes up Sergeant Barnes’ body. He was in a pair of loose sweatpants and a tight long-sleeve shirt. Probably one of those damn Under Armour shirts that shorted her brain out when she saw either of those super soldier assholes in them. They should be illegal.

Steve threw an arm out in her direction as he said something to Bucky. Oh no. No, no, no. He was not going to bring…

They both started walking her direction, making their way over the dry grass covering the lawn. He _was_. Captain Hottie was bringing Barnes over in her direction. They had to see her sitting there. For a brief moment, she considered getting up and leaving before they could cross the lawn. She’d never spoken to Bucky Barnes, and she knew that she’d probably say something really fucking dumb if she had the chance. Sometimes her mouth worked a little faster than her brain.

In the end, she stayed put on the cold bench, sipping at her coffee as they crossed the final few yards of the lawn. She rarely got to see him up close, and she wasn’t about to turn this early Christmas present down. It would fuel her fantasies for weeks to come, even if she embarrassed herself in front of him.

Steve stepped onto the concrete pad and smiled at her. Bucky was behind him, almost hiding.

“Hey, Captain Hottie,” Darcy said in greeting.

“Ms. Lewis, you know I hate that.”

“And you know I hate Ms. Lewis.”

“Darcy,” Steve corrected.

“Steeeeeve,” she replied, dragging out his name. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He sat down across the table from her. “Just curious why you’re out here in the cold.”

Darcy couldn’t keep her eyes from looking over his shoulder at Bucky, who was standing a few feet away with his gaze on the ground at his feet. She’d never actually been this close to him before. He was even hotter when he was within three yards of her. “The lab gets stuffy, and I wanted some fresh air. Why are you two out in the cold?”

“It’s not really that cold. Not for us,” Steve said.

“Lucky you,” she replied. “I guess I don’t need to offer you my mittens then.”

He smiled. “No, ma’am.”

Darcy groaned. “Ugh, you and the manners. Stop having them. It’s creepy.”

Steve looked over his shoulder before leveling his gaze on her again. “This is Bucky. I don’t think you’ve met him.”

There was some definite mischief in Steve Roger’s blue eyes. She moved her eyes up and saw Bucky still firmly focused on the ground between his boots. “I haven’t,” she replied carefully. “Nice to meet you, Bucky.”

“Buck, this is Darcy Lewis. She works in the lab with Jane Foster.”

Bucky nodded and muttered, “Nice to meet you,” to her without even looking.

“I was just telling Buck that he should start meeting some more people who work here. He’s been around almost six months.”

“Well, hell, Cap, I’m flattered. Am I the first non-Avenger who gets the intro?”

“You are. Figured you’d be a good person to start with since you were looking for him at Thanksgiving dinner.”

Darcy scowled and narrowed her eyes at Steve. He just smiled back, all innocence and willful ignorance. What a fucking snake.

“Well, I _have_ been on the search for the best ass in the Avengers and had hoped to inspect Sergeant Barnes’ before dinner in hopes that he’d dethrone you.”

Bucky made a choking noise in his throat and turned to walk a few steps away. Steve glanced over his shoulder at his friend.

“Yep,” Darcy said, looking at Bucky’s butt, “your ass is second rate next to his, Captain Hottie.”

“Darcy,” Steve warned, trying to put a damper on his own grin, “I don’t like that name.”

“Which is exactly why I use it,” she replied. “Besides, I think you secretly love it. You protest too much.”

Bucky turned around. She looked up and locked eyes with him for a moment. God, he was a fucking fox. She could stare at him all day long and not get bored.

“Hey, thanks for turning around to give me a look at the goods, Sergeant. You want me to deliver your Best Ass in the Avengers trophy to your apartment or do you want it displayed in the lounge for bragging rights?”

He shook his head and dropped his gaze to the ground again.

“Modest,” Darcy said. “I like it. You could learn a thing or two, Cap. Some people don’t have to show off with the tight spandex pants.”

Steve frowned. “They are not spandex. They are a blend…”

Darcy lifted a mitten-covered hand, opening and closing her fingers against her thumb, miming a mouth talking. “Yeah, yeah, yeah…”

She watched Captain America grin at her and then glance over his shoulder at his best friend. Bucky Barnes seemed just a little shy, which was pretty ridiculous since he was the hottest piece ass in the country, possibly the world. Then again, she knew the basics of his past so the reluctance to engage seemed pretty reasonable when you considered all the shit HYDRA had put him through.

“Darcy is a handful,” Steve told Bucky, “but she’s a good person to know.”

“Why is that?” Bucky muttered, glancing off to the side, still unable to look her in the eye again.

“Because everybody owes me favors. You need something, I got your back,” she told him.

He finally looked up at her. “Why does everyone owe you favors?”

Darcy flashed him a wide smile. “Because I’m nice.”

Bucky made a noncommittal noise, crossed his arms over his chest, and took two steps away.

Sensing that his friend wanted to leave, Steve stood up and gave Darcy a wave goodbye. “Be good, Darcy,” he told her.

“I’m always good, Captain Hottie. See you around, Sergeant Sexy.”

Bucky’s head whipped around to look at her when the nickname popped out of her mouth. His mouth was open for a split second before he snapped it shut and turned away to cross the sloping lawn down to the fence along the perimeter. Steve just shook his head at her and followed.

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Bucky had always known that someone liked to sit on the patio around the time he would run. He stuck to his schedule, so it wasn’t unusual that this person also had a schedule that put them on one of those concrete benches at the same time. Bucky, however, did not pay attention to who that person was. He certainly didn’t realize that person was a knockout brunette with a sassy mouth.

He glanced over toward the building and the cluster of tables and benches as he turned the corner at the fence. She was there, bundled up in a coat and alone. He was alone, too. Steve was training the elite squad that was usually called in to back up the Avengers. He’d asked Bucky to come with him, but Bucky didn’t have much desire to be around people. In fact, it made him anxious and uncomfortable.

Picking up his pace, he ran down the length of the fence and kept his head forward, not daring a glance in her direction. He’d seen her around a couple times, but didn’t know her name nor had he given her much thought. Sure, he’d noticed she was pretty–beautiful, actually–but women didn’t factor into his life. It took all the effort he could manage to get through each day in a building filled with people. Even well-intentioned Steve drained him with the constant check-ins and are-you-okays. Mostly, Bucky just wanted to be left alone.

She’d been pretty brazen about staring at his ass, though. That had been nine days ago, and he still replayed the conversation between her and Steve in his head. She was bold and flirtatious. Bucky had thought maybe she and Steve were dancing around something, but Steve just laughed when Bucky had asked if he and Darcy had a thing going on. Actually, Steve had laughed and suggested Bucky start something up with her. Not fucking likely, Bucky thought. Not a chance in hell would that work out, even if she was gorgeous. Even if she would have been his dream girl back before the war, before everything went to hell.

He made another loop of the property and found her still sitting on one of those concrete benches in her winter coat. Head forward, don’t look, he thought. Don’t look at that dame. On his seventh loop, he slid his eyes over at her as he ran past. What was on her head? A hat with a puffy ball on top?

By the time he was on his tenth lap, he was trying to convince himself to pause on his run and walk over to say hello to her. She didn’t seem intimidated by him, which was something rare with the civilian staff at the facility. She was also sitting there watching him, and now that he knew, she was starting to make him anxious. Why was she watching him? Why did she sit out there in such cold weather?

On his thirteenth lap, he’d worked up the courage to say something. He used to be able to talk to dames without a problem. Maybe it was like riding a bike. He slowed his momentum and jogged a few more yards until he stopped directly across the wide lawn from her. She was half a football field away, but now that he’d committed to saying hello, the distance seemed like the size of a postage stamp.

He looked across the expanse at her, suddenly feeling like he’d made a mistake. He looked away and sucked in air as he caught his breath, hands on his hips. Maybe he should just pick back up on the run and not tangle with her. He could barely be around people, much less verbally spar with all that intelligence behind her eyes.

A wolf whistle made him jerk his eyes back in her direction just as she called out, “Looking good, Sergeant Sexy!”

Bucky’s eyes widened and his cheeks burned with a blush. For a moment, he froze, his brain unable to process what she'd yelled to formulate a response. Sergeant Sexy. He shook his head as he dropped his gaze to the ground. He could hear her soft chuckles with all that enhanced hearing inflicted on him by HYDRA. Was she poking fun at him? Just trying to get a rise out of him like she did with Steve? Was she actually serious? 

Lifting his left hand, he gave a quick wave of acknowledgement before throwing his body forward into a run. He couldn't talk to her. No fucking way. 

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“I'm just saying I saw her in the common room by herself.” Steve was trying to look innocent, but Bucky knew damn well that Steve Rogers was a sneaky bastard. He'd known his friend was up to something the minute he’d opened the door to his apartment to reveal Steve grinning from ear to ear, talking about how Darcy Lewis was watching a movie all by herself in a public area. 

Bucky turned his back on Steve and retreated into the modest one bedroom apartment he'd been assigned when he agreed to put his unique talents to work again. He'd been tempted to continue hiding from life like he'd done after he'd broken free of HYDRA, but telling Steve no was harder than he'd thought, even after all these years.

“Why would I want to know what that dame is doing?” he muttered. 

“I think she likes you,” Steve replied, shutting the door and stepping inside. 

“What makes you think I like her?” he asked, turning to look at his friend.

Steve smiled. “Because I've seen her. And because she's funny and kind and smart.”

“Sounds like you need to go ask her out to dinner, punk,” Bucky muttered, trying to ignore that little flash of jealousy that slithered into his thoughts. 

“Ain't interested in her like that,” he replied. “Plus, I think she likes you more than me.”

Bucky's voice was flat when he said, “She calls you Captain Hottie.”

“She calls you Sergeant Sexy,” Steve countered. “She was looking for you at Thanksgiving dinner. Gave me a little sass when she found out you weren't coming.”

Bucky felt a heat bloom in his chest over the notion that she might actually be going out of her way to see him without actually approaching him. What did that mean? Why would she ask after him at dinner when they'd never even spoken, when he didn't even know her name? Why would she sit outside in the freezing December weather and watching him circle the perimeter of the upstate facility? Why would she care? 

“She don't mean nothing by it,” he told Steve. “She's just being nice. Like you said, she’s a good girl.”

Shaking his head, Steve said, “I said she's kind, not nice. I think she's actually a handful, and I also think she's got a crush on you. You should go talk to her.” He walked over and reached out a hand to give Bucky a firm smack on the shoulder blade. “Go on. She's easy to talk to, keeps the conversation going even when you don't know what to say. You gotta start somewhere with people. Why not start with her?” 

“I ain't gotta start anywhere, punk.” He opened his mouth to tell Steve about his failed attempt at saying hello to her a couple days before, but he thought better of it and snapped his mouth shut. 

“She's the one who made those cookies with the Hershey's Kisses pushed into the middle. You know, the ones I gave you last week? The ones you wanted more of.”

Bucky frowned. He had fond memories of those cookies. They were moist and chewy, and the chocolate had melted on his tongue like butter. “Does she have more cookies with her?” 

Laughing, Steve said, “I bet she'd make you some if you asked real nice.” He clapped Bucky on the back again before heading over to the door. “She's all by herself. You wouldn't have to talk to anybody but her.”

“No,” Bucky told him, following Steve over to the door and shutting it in his friend's face.

It took less than fifteen minutes before Bucky found himself running a hand nervously through his hair as he walked down the hallway to the common room–a large area with a huge television, ample seating, and a bar at the far end. It wasn't used all that often since most people who lived in the facility valued their privacy, Bucky included. Steve was right; Darcy Lewis was sitting in the middle of one piece of the sectional couch, her back to him and her eyes, presumably, on the screen. He could identify her from the glossy dark hair that tumbled over the back of the couch and the scent of her perfume or soap. He'd gotten a whiff out on the patio the day Steve had introduced them, and it had stuck with him. 

The screen showed a little boy in glasses watching another little boy stick his tongue on a cold, metal pole. Darcy chuckled and shifted on the couch, folding one of her legs beneath her. She didn’t know he’d entered the room. The role reversal felt good–being able to watch her without her eyes on him. It sounded like she’d been watching him even when he wasn’t aware. Bucky still wasn’t sure why she wanted to spend time on him, but he knew why he remained in the doorway, tracing the curve of her head and the slope of her shoulder with his gaze. She was intriguing and beautiful, and things were so much easier when she wasn’t looking at him with those eyes that looked like they might care.

The kid on the screen was screaming with his tongue stuck on the pole, and Bucky was starting to feel like a creep as he stood there behind her, wondering what was going on her in head wondering why he couldn’t talk to people anymore. It all just seemed so hard. He felt like a raw, open wound and most people were abrasive sandpaper. They didn’t mean to be, and it didn’t mean he didn’t want to like them. He just couldn’t change his brain, make it enjoy company. Steve was fine; being around him didn’t cost Bucky much.T’Challa was also fine because there was a stillness, a quiet reserve, to him that had a calming effect. Sam could be okay one moment, distracting Bucky from an inner world that involved too much reflection, but sometimes Sam pushed too hard. Sam didn’t mean to; Bucky knew he just wanted to help.

Steve seemed to think Darcy would be one of those people who didn’t feel like sandpaper. Bucky wasn’t so sure about that. She was outspoken, quick-witted, bubbly, and too smart by the look in her eyes. Those weren’t traits that Bucky found relaxing or even tolerable. Then again, Steve was probably thinking that she was a pretty girl who would be bold enough to make the first move on poor old Bucky Barnes. Maybe Steve was trying to get him laid after all these years.

Bucky had thought that a few times since meeting her. Wouldn’t it be so nice to just let her roll over him, give into her so he could touch her sweet body. He hadn’t touched a woman like that since the forties. The daunting task of approaching a woman and talking his way into her bed seemed trivial after all he’d been through, but it was also overwhelming. Last night he’d lied in bed and thought about her taking control, and him letting her. She was very modern, very forward, he wouldn’t have to do much. Right? Wouldn’t that be amazing? Maybe that was why Steve was pushing him toward her.

He couldn’t stand there for much longer without turning into a creep. He needed to say something, but Bucky had no idea what words to use. When he parted his lips, nothing came out. Closing his mouth, he swallowed the anxiety trying to claw its way up his throat. Talking to someone he didn’t know was terrifying. Worries about sounding like an idiot out of time, her judgement or fear over his past and present, and just generally not knowing how to interact with people after decades as a killing machine swirled around in his mind. It always happened this way; he always locked up. It was why he just avoided social situations. Give him a gun and an enemy and he’d perform like a champ. Tell him to say hi to the pretty girl on the couch and he felt like vomiting.

Steve thinks she’d be a good person to talk to, he told himself. Bucky repeated the phrase over and over in his head. She’d called him Sergeant Sexy. What did that mean? He shook his head. She was just friendly, playful. Maybe that’s what he needed. Steve was comfortable and known. T’Challa was reserved and calming. Sam was understanding and helpful. She wasn’t any of those things. She was something else altogether.

Finally, Bucky flexed the fingers of both his vibranium hand and flesh hand before clearing his throat. She whipped her head around, her long hair flipping over her shoulder. Her blue eyes were wide, and her pink lips were parted in surprise.

He watched her brows lift up, and then she said, “Hey, I didn’t know you were allowed out of your room.”

He opened his mouth again, but he had no idea what to say to her. The only thing that passed his lips was an exhale.

“Not much of a talker, are ya?” she asked. Before he even had a chance to respond, she twisted a little more to face him, her arm resting on the back of the couch, and said, “That's okay. When you look like you do, you usually don't have to dazzle the world with your witty repartee.”

Her eyes were warm, even if he felt like she might be poking a little fun at him. It didn't seem malicious, and she didn't seem uneasy around him, which was unusual. “How do I look?” he asked, not putting much thought behind the question. 

“Uh, how do you think you look, Sergeant Sexy?” Her brows lifted when he didn't respond immediately. Finally, she answered her own question by saying, “Sexy. That's how you look like.”

Bucky felt a burning warmth in the pit of his stomach. She thought he looked good? Women did stare, but they also steered clear. He assumed the looks were fear or discomfort. Darcy Lewis seemed to have other motives, motives that almost made him–a grown man who used to be good with women–want to blush. “Thanks?” he said, his voice lilting up at the end to make the word a question even if he hadn't really intended it as such. 

She flashed him a wide smile. “You're welcome?” She made the response a question, too.

Bucky felt out of his depth, standing there like an idiot in the doorway. Why had he sought her out? Why had he believed he could do this? She was gorgeous with a smart mouth and an attitude that would have gotten him hot under the collar back in his younger days, back in the innocent times before he'd turned into a monster. He was playing with fire when he knew damn well he couldn't even light a match.

“Come on, strong and silent,” Darcy said, flipping back toward the television and patting the cushion next to her. “Sit down and watch a Christmas classic.”

He hesitated. She was too much. Too forward, too flippant, too informal. Too beautiful. It was almost funny to him because she was everything the old him would have loved. He’d have jumped through every hoop she threw up back then for a chance to get his hands on her. Now his mind just froze up when faced with the way she looked at him. Thoughts of what if flashed through his mind again. What if he just let her run him? What if he just let go and let her take charge so he didn’t have to figure out how to handle the situation? He could just do what he was told. Maybe she’d kiss him. Maybe she’d take off her clothes and tell him to take off his. Maybe she’d take him to bed. The vulnerability of it sent a shiver of panic through his mind, but the thought of touching her or having her hands on his body in _that_ way made his muscles tense in anticipation.

“You just gonna stand there in the doorway? The view is way better over on this side of the room.”

“I can see the television from here,” he said, still half in his fantasies of what if.

“Yeah, but I can’t see you, Sergeant Sexy,” she told him, turning her head to look his way again. She was grinning and there was mischief in her eyes. No one ever looked at him that way. Not any longer, not since he’d become a killing machine. “While this is definitely one of my favorite Christmas movies, I’ve seen in a ton of times, and I don’t ever get to see you. So, it’ll be a treat. You watch a new movie, and I get to check out the goods.”

Bucky felt his jaw tighten, though it was something he didn’t consciously do. He could give in and sit beside her. She might touch him. He might let her. It’d be so easy because he could tell she’d do all the work–physically _and_ mentally. He could learn how to just be in the moment again, how to turn off his fucking brain and just live.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he said, “You see me almost every day when I’m out running.”

Her smile widened, and her brows lifted. “From a distance. You’re a lot better close up.”

He shook his head. “Most people don’t want me close up. Why do you?”

“Uh, red-blooded woman here. I know how to appreciate the finer things in life.”

He was talking to her. It felt like the beginnings of a conversation, something he hadn’t been able to do with many people. It felt a little exhilarating and a little scary. “Finer things in life?” he questioned as he stepped into the room and carefully moved around the couch, keeping more space than was necessary between them.

“Yeah,” she replied, turning her head back to track his movements as he came around to stand next to the television. The kid on the screen was still screaming, but the volume was low. “Finer things like good-looking dudes who are out of my league. I like to admire.”

“Out of your league?”

“Mmm, hmm,” she hummed, agreeing with herself. “But I don’t mind just looking.”

“Are you making fun of me?” he asked, moving toward a chair next to the couch.

“Nope. I just don’t have a brain-to-mouth filter. I used to get embarrassed, but I’m getting tired of being embarrassed in my old age. My mom hates it. Family dinners aren’t fun for her, but they are for me.”

Bucky eased himself into the chair and huffed out a disbelieving breath. “Old age? What are you? Twenty-three, twenty-four?” A fucking baby, a child. He shouldn’t be entertaining thoughts of how soft her skin would be.

“Twenty-eight, dude. I’m on the downward slide headed toward thirty. I heard your thirties are fun, though.”

He shrugged. “I can’t confirm. I wasn’t…” Bucky didn’t know how to finish that sentence. Why did he even think he could talk about his past with her? Why did he bring up all that dark shit?

“You weren’t in your right mind. I know,” she said, saving him from not knowing how to recover. He exhaled the breath he’d been holding. This wasn’t so bad. She made it easy, or at least as easy as it could be. Maybe Steve was right.

He looked away from her and focused on the television screen, at the group of kids by the flagpole. It took effort to follow the storyline and not let his thoughts wander to her and what she was thinking. She didn’t say anything else and seemed content to return her attention to the movie, though every few minutes he could feel her gaze on him. It made him feel strange, like she was a heater. He’d been cold so long than it was both comforting and exhilarating to sit there and bask in the heat of her gaze.

Part of him wanted to stand up and go sit beside her, but most of him was terrified of turning the fantasies of vulnerability into reality. He stayed put, trying to pay attention to the silly movie but mostly letting his mind stray to what ifs about her and him.

By the time the credits started rolling, his anxiety was kicking up. What next? How could he leave without offending her? What did she expect of him? Why was it so hard for him to take what he wanted?

“Why didn’t you come to Thanksgiving dinner?”

Her question fell right into line with all the ones running through his mind. He opened his mouth, but it took a long moment before he could piece together the words to answer her. Finally, he said, “People make me anxious.”

“Why?”

The million dollar fucking question Steve and Sam had been asking him for months. Why? “They just do.”

“Are you afraid someone will attack you? Or maybe afraid you’ll hurt someone? Or is it all the loud talking? Sometimes when a bunch of people are in a room with me and I get lost in all the talking, it makes me anxious. I usually hide in the bathroom until it passes.”

He exhaled sharply, almost laughing in disbelief at the way her thoughts just tumbled right off her lips like that and at the way she’d hit the nail right on the head without even realizing it. “Yeah,” he replied. “All of the above.”

“You know, everyone would give you space if you explained yourself.”

He looked away from her, focusing on the black sweatpants covering his legs. “I don’t want to explain myself. Just wanna be left alone.”

“Why’d you come in here, then?”

Lifting his gaze again, Bucky said, “Because you bossed me around and told me to.”

Darcy smiled at him, flashing her teeth and crinkling up the corners of her eyes. She shook her head. “Nice try, Sergeant Sexy. I think you want company; you’re just afraid to ask.”

“I don’t mind people one-on-one. Sometimes.”

“Well, you can get me one-on-one anytime,” she replied, giving him a wink.

Shoving those dangerous thoughts about the scent of her hair and the feel of her lips aside, he said, “Why aren’t you afraid of me?”

Instead of answering his question, she asked one of her own. “Why are you here–in this building–if you don’t like being around people?”

Bucky stood up and turned away from her, facing the wall by the television. The screen was black, waiting for direction on what to play next. He hadn’t really thought about his motives. Why was he here? He’d just gone with the flow, believing he didn’t really have a choice. His past had caged him in, and it wasn’t like he had many options. Although, he certainly wasn’t here because he didn’t have a choice. He had agreed to it, after all.

Turning around to look at her again, his hands on his hips, he said, “Because I can help. I don’t know much, but I know how to fight, how to kill. That’s… helpful sometimes. Might as well use it for good.”

“You think you’re doing good?” Her expressive face wasn’t very readable sometimes. He wasn’t sure if she was honestly curious or if she was baiting him.

“Steve seems to think so.”

“Do you?”

He frowned. “Do _you_?” Bucky shot back.

She shrugged like the question hadn’t meant much at all. “Of course I do. Just curious what you think.”

“I try not to think,” he replied.

“Bet that’s hard. Someone as quiet as you are is bound to be thinking all the time.”

He huffed out an amused breath and shook his head. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Thanks for the movie.” That said, he all but fled the room.

She called out a goodnight to him, but he didn’t stop to reply. He’d spent most of the time in there thinking about her being some sort of sex kitten, teaching him how to touch or be touched again. She’d played right into it with all the compliments and heated glances. That had felt nice. The comfort of her presence had felt even better. The conversation felt like that good strain of stretching a muscle you haven’t used in forever, realizing it still worked. However, he wasn’t ready for some beautiful dame with a smart mouth and intelligent eyes who openly admired his body to actually care about his fucking head.

Too much, he thought. It was too much, too fast. She was more terrifying than Steve on a mission to right some injustice. He lifted his right hand and rubbed the back of his neck as he strode down the hall toward his room. It was like he could feel her laser focus on him. Part of him wanted to run, but the other half wanted to let her do whatever she wanted. Rip him open, body and mind. Maybe he’d like it. Maybe it was what he needed.


	2. Chapter 2

“Steeeeeve,” she said, drawing out his name as she slipped into the chair across the table from him. He looked up from the the half-eaten sandwich and the stack of forms he had a pen poised over.

“Darcy,” he acknowledged. “I’m not Captain Hottie today?”

She grinned at him. “You’re always Captain Hottie. I just use your actual name when I want info or a favor. It gets better results.”

Steve put down the pen and gave her his full attention. “Good to know,” he replied.

Clearing her throat and tapping her fingertips on the table, she said, “So, who did you get for the Secret Santa exchange?”

He frowned. “It wouldn’t be a secret if I told you.”

“Steeeeeve, my buddy, my pal. Come on. Have mercy on a girl.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I might have a plan.”

“A plan that involves my Secret Santa recipient?”

She leaned across the table and whispered, “A little birdie told me that you have Bucky.”

“What if I do?”

Darcy rolled her eyes at him. “Steven Rogers, don’t be obtuse. I wanna get on Sergeant Sexy’s good side.”

He smiled and shook his head at her. “What does that have to do with Secret Santa?”

“I wanna get him a present, but he’ll think I’m a stalker if it isn’t for the Secret Santa exchange that Pepper organized.”

Steve looked down at his stack of paperwork and sighed before looking back up at her. “He only agreed to participate if it was rigged so I got him and he got me.”

Darcy feigned surprised. “Are you telling me that you cheated? Steven Grant Rogers, I do declare.”

“You don’t sound very shocked.”

“What? You think I actually believe all that bullshit about you being a goody-two-shoes?” Darcy snorted. “Yeah, right. You’re a bad boy to the core.”

He let out an abrupt bark of laughter. “A bad boy?”

“You’re always breaking rules and doing things your way and cheating at secret gift exchanges. It’s pretty disheartening that a pillar of justice like you is such a bad influence.” She paused and narrowed her eyes at him. “It’s also pretty hot.”

He laughed again. “Okay, Darcy. Who do you have for the gift exchange?”

Now she gave him a smile to rival the Cheshire Cat. “Shaaaaaron.” She dug the slip of paper out of her pocket and waved it in the air. “You know you wanna, Captain Hottie.”

“I thought I was Steve when you wanted something from me.”

Darcy shrugged and said, “ _Steve_ , you know you wanna give Sharon…”

“Hey!” he barked out, interrupting whatever she was going to say. It made her smile. “Fine,” he relented. He flipped open the folder in front of him and pulled out a matching slip that had Bucky’s name neatly printed in black letters across it.

Darcy plucked it from his hand and dropped the slip with Sharon’s name on top of the folder. “You’re the best!”

“Real interesting how you just happened to have the one person I would have switched for.”

Darcy stood and raised her brows. “Who said I got Sharon? I actually got Wanda. Vision switched with me and gave me Nat. Clint wanted to get her this terrible gag gift, so I switched with him to get Bruce. And…”

“Darcy, did you actually rig the entire gift exchange?”

She slipped Bucky’s name in her back pocket. “No. I didn’t _rig_ it. I just… cheated a little bit.”

“How many people did you involve in your little cheating scheme?”

Darcy scrunched up her nose. “Hmmm, I don’t remember. A few. You guys like to act like you’re the defenders of justice or whatever, but damn if you don’t jump at the chance to get your way. I knew you wouldn’t sell your BFF out unless I could deliver Sharon, so a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”

“You think it’ll be worth it?” he asked, his face suddenly serious.

“Sure.”

“He’s not easy, Darcy. He’s been hurt badly. He’s not…”

She waved her hand in the air, dismissing Steve’s words. “Yeah, yeah. I know. I don’t want anything. I just want to do something nice for him. More people should.”

Steve nodded slowly. “You’re right. More people should.”

“So,” she said. “Since you’re on board with me being nice to your Bucky, your pal… I need another favor, _Steeeeeve_...”

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It felt strange being in his personal space. Darcy was actually surprised Steve had so easily agreed to let her into Bucky’s apartment. The space was about the same size as hers, but the layout was flipped. The kitchen was on the right when you entered the door, a long breakfast bar separating it from the foyer and the living area further into the unit. The appliances were stainless steel and spotless. His granite counters were clear of clutter, only two loaves of wheat bread and a pile of individually-wrapped Reese’s Cups along the backsplash next to the fridge. His living room was tidy, but she could tell he often spent nights sleeping on the leather couch because a pillow and a worn blanket were settled on it. The blanket looked as if it had been thrown off when he’d woken that morning.

She told herself beforehand that she wouldn’t take advantage of the opportunity and peek into his bedroom, which was through a door to the left. However, curiosity got the best of her, and she did take a look at his queen size bed with the sheets tucked in and the duvet spread across it, wrinkle free and untouched. There wasn’t any artwork on the walls, but there were several newspaper clippings taped to one wall of the bedroom. They were all about recent terrorist acts or speculations on government or corporate conspiracies. She could only assume the spiky handwriting in the margins of the articles and on yellow Post-Its was Bucky’s. His notes detailed links to HYDRA. The horrible collage made her heart heavy.

The bathroom, which was just off the bedroom, was clean and spartan with only a bottle of shampoo and a plain white bar of soap on the shelf. His shower curtain was white, and a toothbrush that had seen better days was lying next to a half-used tube of toothpaste on the vanity. Darcy frowned and returned to the kitchen. Steve had carried the three paper bags and her tote of cooking implements into the apartment when he’d let her in. He had extracted a promise from her that she wouldn’t touch any of Bucky’s personal possessions or snoop. Maybe she’d snooped a little by wandering into his bedroom, but she didn’t open drawers or go stick her face into his dirty clothing to inhale his scent. A girl has to keep some of her dignity, she thought.

After he’d joined her for her solo movie night a little over a week ago, she hadn’t been able to keep her mind from straying to Bucky when idle. She’d hoped their conversation that night might have opened the door to a friendship. She didn’t have any delusions that she was ever going to bag Sergeant Sexy, but the more he talked, the more she realized he wasn’t happy. Maybe she’d always known that, but she’d just assumed he was a grouchy hottie who didn’t have time for friendships, much less relationships. That assumption made it easy for her to stare at him when he happened to be in sight, considering all the filthy things she’d do or let him do. Fantasies that would never come close to reality.

The conversation twisted that in her mind because now he was more than just great hair, thick thighs, a tight ass, and a killer jawline with eyes that made her want to melt. He _was_ all that, but he was also a damaged man who didn’t know how to be around people. She’d felt all that effort he’d put into their conversation. It was like watching someone relearn how to walk as he figured out how to sit there with her and be okay with her presence.

It must have been too taxing, too much, because he’d been scarce since then. She’d seen him run the perimeter three times in ten days. He usually was out there almost every single day. It was getting colder with highs in the upper twenties on some days. A cold front had moved in a few days ago, and the Weather Channel, which was her preferred source of company in the evenings when she was alone in her apartment, was calling for a snowy Christmas from Maine all the way down to the Appalachian Mountains running up the interior of Virginia. It looked like they were right because she could see big, wet snowflakes falling rapidly outside Bucky’s window as she unpacked the food on his counter. The ground was already covered, and at this rate they would have more than a couple inches by the time the sun set.

Steve had promised her he’d keep Bucky out at a training exercise until six. She hoped they weren’t involving anyone else on the team for her sake. It was Christmas Eve, after all. She’d never really spent much time on holidays since she’d moved away from home. Her father was Jewish and her mother wasn’t, so they’d celebrated Hanukkah and Christmas each year as a child. After all the shit she’d seen over the past few years, celebrating holidays for religions she didn’t even practice seemed silly. That didn’t mean that she didn’t enjoy the atmosphere and spending time with her friends when she couldn’t be with her family. Sometimes Darcy was sure she was getting the better end of the deal even when Tony was an asshole because, as hard has he tried, he could never rival her Aunt Blair in that department.

Darcy pulled her hair back into a low ponytail and surveyed Bucky's living room and how bare it looked. She’d hang the decorations after she put the turkey in the oven. She only had a limited amount of time to transform his little apartment into a Christmas wonderland.

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He could hear music playing in his apartment. Bucky stood outside the door, his brows furrowed and his heart pounding. In seconds his mind had cataloged the situation and discarded possible explanations, most of which involved someone meaning him harm. Besides the music, he could smell the scent of food–good food–slipping through the sliver between the bottom of the door and the doorjamb. What was going on?

Placing the sweaty palm of his hand on the doorknob, he wrapped his fingers around it and pushed open the door. The first thing he saw was garland and clear Christmas lights stretched along the walls right where they bent into the ceiling. The next thing he saw was a dinner spread on the breakfast bar. There was a roast turkey with a huge bowl of mashed potatoes, a boat of gravy, a platter of sauteed green beans, and a plate of assorted Christmas cookies. There were those little peanut butter ones with the Hershey's Kisses in the middle that he loved.

His eyes slid up to find a woman in his kitchen, turning to put a plate of candied yams next to the potatoes. _Her_. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He wasn’t surprised, though. Who else would it be but her, the only normal person who had reached out to him. What was shocking was that he couldn’t drum up any anger or discomfort over finding her in his kitchen.

She spoke for him when she said, “Oh, shit.”

Bucky widened his eyes at her in question. “Oh, shit?”

She sat the plate down and tucked a stray hair that had escaped her ponytail behind her ear. “You're early or I’m late.”

“You’re in my apartment,” he said.

She scrunched her nose up. “Yeah, about that. Like, uh, halfway through cooking the turkey I had this mental crisis when I thought maybe I was overstepping bounds and invading your space and shit. I’m not that kind of person, you know. I wouldn’t want to fuck with your privacy, but… I don’t know. I wanted to do something, and I didn’t know what to get you. I mean, you’re hard to buy for, dude.”

“What to get me?” She was so fast. Her lips forming words that were spit out too quickly for him to keep up.

“Yeah,” Darcy said, reaching around and shoving her hand into the back pocket of her jeans. She produced a white slip of paper with his name neatly printed on it. He recognized it as the Secret Santa slip that he thought Steve had received. “So, I got you Christmas dinner and…” She swept her arm across his living room, “Christmas cheer.” After a moment’s pause, she said, “I swear I didn’t look at any of your personal stuff. I just, like, peeked into the bedroom, but only because I wanted to see where Sergeant Sexy slept. Not because I wanted to be nosey or anything. It was innocent, I swear.”

He couldn’t keep up. “I thought Steve was my Secret Santa.”

She smiled, and it looked a little shy and a little mischievous. He felt his heart thump in his chest because she was too pretty. “Wellllll, you’re not the only one who can rig a game. I might have done a little persuasion to get your name. Are you really surprised? Steve can’t be trusted to follow the rules, even if they’re your rules.”

Bucky didn’t stop the soft chuckle that bubbled up his throat and escaped his lips. “Yeah,” he agreed. “But why?”

“Why can’t he be trusted or why did I do the persuasion thing?”

“Why did you want my name?”

She shrugged and wiped her hands on a dish towel she’d draped over her shoulder. “I thought you deserved a little Christmas, but I know you don’t like to come to any of the dinners or parties with the rest of the group. So, I brought the party to you.” She swept her arm out to indicate the spread of food covering the L-shaped breakfast bar separating his kitchen from the foyer and living area. “You can enjoy it on your own or invite who you want.”

Bucky watched her adjust the way a couple of the dishes were turned, her nerves evident in the way her hands fluttered here and there and the way her upper teeth pressed into the side of her lower lip. “You did all this.” It was more a statement than a question.

Looking up at him, she smiled again. “Yep. I was just finishing up and wiping down the counters. You’re a few minutes early. Steve promised you’d be gone until six.”

She pulled the towel off her shoulder, neatly folded it into a square, and sat it on his counter before moving over to the television. She lifted a small device and changed the song before turning around. She was in a pair of faded blue jeans and a chunky, lime green sweater with the sleeves pushed up to her elbows. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, but some tendrils had escaped to frame her face. Her feet were bare, and her shoes were next to him by his door. Bucky wanted to block her way so she couldn’t leave, so he could try to ignore reality and live in this little fantasy she’d built for a little longer.

“Sooooo, yeah,” she said, palms pressed against the front of her thighs. “I’ll just… go. I think I made enough food for you and a couple other hungry dudes if you want to invite whoever over for Christmas Eve dinner.”

She was walking toward him, and he had no idea what to do other than to get out of her way. Bucky stepped to the side so she could slip her shoes on. He’d never been this close to her before. She smelled like good food and sandalwood and woman. Bucky watched as she wiggled her foot until her second shoe was on and absently tucked that strand of hair behind her ear again. Not knowing what to say was nothing new to him, but not being able to string together words to thank her was making his chest feel tight.

Her hand was on the doorknob before he said, “Darcy,” softly under his breath.

She froze. “Uh, yeah?”

“Would you… I’d like… I mean, if you’d like…” Bucky sighed and ran a hand roughly through his hair. “You said I could invite who I want to have dinner with me.”

“Sure,” she said. “Christmas cheer and good food is your present. You decide how to use it.” Her hand was still on the doorknob.

“Do you want to stay? To have dinner with me?”

He watched her eyes widen in surprise. “Uh, wow. Yeah, yeah, I’d love to. Are you sure?”

Her hand came off the doorknob, and he felt like he could breathe again. “Yeah, I’m sure,” he replied.

“I thought you weren’t a fan of company.”

“Groups of people, crowds. One-on-one is… okay.” It was a half truth. He avoided one-on-one as much as he avoided groups, unless it was Steve or Sam or T’Challa, but it was easier than groups. He didn’t feel so anxious. It had taken him two years in Bucharest to even begin to learn how to live again–how to go out to the market and buy food without feeling like his stomach was in knots and there was a target on his back. That interlude of peace had been shattered by what Zemo had done. Now recovering, surrounded by people, forced to live in close confines with them, was even more difficult.

“One-on-one, huh? You aren’t inviting your boys to dinner?” Her voice, equal parts sweet and husky pulled him out of his thoughts.

“It’s easier for me with one. Does that make you uncomfortable?”

Her brows lifted. “Hell, no. You think I’d turn down dinner with Sergeant Sexy? Not likely.”

Bucky shifted his eyes away from the faint smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “That’s a ridiculous nickname.”

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” she asked, repeating his question back to him. “If it does…”

“No, it… it’s fine. You’re fine. It’s just… not me.”

This time she did smile, her lips pressed together and her eyes so warm, almost radiating all that warmth he knew was there in her if he could just reach out and touch it. “Well, it kinda is you. Obviously, you’ve been skipping the mirrors lately because….” Darcy’s eyes slid down his body and then back up. Her cheeks were flushed, and he wondered again what it would be like to let her do whatever she wanted with him. Would they end up in bed? Would she put his hands on her? His left hand? What would it look like against her skin? What would she feel like?

Bucky shook his head to clear the thoughts of her and looked away, settling his gaze on the heaping pile of mashed potatoes. The Christmas song that was playing was unrecognizable, probably something that had been penned well after he’d been taken and twisted and perverted by HYDRA.

“Hungry?” she asked.

Relieved that she’d changed the course of the conversation, Bucky said, “I didn’t think so until I smelled the food.”

“I might not have superpowers like all you guys, but I’m an awesome cook.” She slipped past him and went back into the kitchen to pull two plates from the cabinet. She knew right where they were. It was strange to watch someone he didn’t know that well navigate his personal space so easily. It felt even stranger that he didn’t mind. There was a squirming in his gut that felt pleasant, but also a little frightening. What if this could be a regular thing? What if this wasn’t a one-time dinner with her? Bucky swallowed and watched her come back around to the other side of the breakfast bar with the plates, forks and knives laid on top of them.

“I still don’t understand why you did this for me,” he told her after she sat the plates down and slipped her shoes off again.

Staring at the worn red canvas shoes, he listened to her respond with, “Because spending the holidays alone sucks, and you seem nice, and I get the whole anxiety-around-people thing.” Bucky looked up to meet her eyes. “And you’re hot.”

A snort of disbelieving laughter escaped him.

“You’ve been watching me run the fence,” he said. It was a statement, not a question.

“It gets boring around here when things are quiet,” she responded anyway. “And you’re nice to look at.”

“Nice to look at?” he asked, trying to ignore that squirming heat in his belly, trying not to let his mind get too carried with thoughts of the pretty girl who’d just made him Christmas dinner. “With this?” he asked, lifting his cybernetic arm.

She shrugged and slipped up onto one of the stools at the bar. There was just enough room for a plate in front of her. All the free space on the surface was covered with platters and bowls of food. “It’s pretty sexy, actually.”

“It’s a weapon.”

She turned her back to him and leaned over to slide two slices of turkey onto her plate. “It’s a prosthetic arm until you use it to punch somebody, and even then it might still be sexy.” Darcy paused and turned around to look at him. “Wait, do you have some weird thing where the tip of your index finger flips down and there’s a gun hidden in it or some crazy shit like that?”

The chuckle at her idea came easily to him in this surreal moment where he almost felt like a normal person. “No, I don’t have any guns or knives in it,” he said, cautiously stepping up to stand beside her stool. He gave her space, as much of it as he could.

“So, it’s not a weapon. It’s a prosthetic. I know you’ve probably got some bad memories associated with it and shit, but this chick’s unbiased opinion is that it’s sexy.”

“You wouldn’t say that if I took my shirt off and you could see the scars.”

She paused with a roll halfway to her mouth, turning her head to look at him. “Dude, if you take your shirt off and I pass out, I just want to let you know it was _not_ because I was afraid of your scars. It was because my sexually frustrated hormones went wacky.”

He dropped his gaze to his plate, hoping that his face wasn’t flushed red and hoping that she couldn’t read his thoughts on his face. “I… don’t know what to say to that,” he admitted, his voice a soft murmur.

She plopped a spoonful of mashed potatoes on her plate next to the turkey, still so close to him and even more intimidating at this distance. “Yeah, I get that a lot. You superheros sure do shock easily.” Darcy ladled some gravy over the potatoes and turkey. “You’re not scary, you know,” she said with a straight face.

Bucky looked down at her. “I wasn’t trying to be.”

Darcy gave him that look that said she thought he was full of shit. He already knew he was full of shit, though. “I know a lot of people would cross the street so they don’t have to pass you, and I know you see that. _I_ see that, and I don’t even get to see you that often. I just want you to know that I wouldn’t cross the street.”

He sat down on the stool beside her and swallowed hard when her arm brushed against his as she reached over to grab some yams. “Yeah, I figured that since you broke into my apartment.”

Her snort took him by surprise. “It was hardly breaking in. Steve let me in. He even carried the bags into your kitchen.”

“That punk,” Bucky muttered. He wasn’t able to drum up much concern or irritation with his friend, though. Steve had nudged this woman into his life, and he was finally starting to relax and enjoy the company of someone new, someone who made his stomach flutter when she looked at him sometimes.

“He’s a meddler,” she agreed, reaching across to tap the edge of the empty plate in front of him with her fork. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

Bucky looked down at the plate. It was hanging precariously off the edge of the counter because the platter of turkey in front of him took up too much room. He carefully readjusted things until the plate was stable, and then he began filling it with the food she’d prepared. The more he added, the more his mouth watered at the anticipation of what it would taste like. He hadn’t eaten like this in ages.

He was hyper aware of her gaze on his hands as he reached across her plate to get some of the green beans–fresh just the way he liked them, not canned. She lifted the basket of warm rolls and offered them to him. He took two in his prosthetic hand and watched her eyes slide up his arm to where the sleeve of his T-shirt cut off her view of his shoulder. Darcy’s gaze skipped up to his face, and she smiled. It was filled with genuine warmth, something that was in short supply in his life lately.

A twitch of his lips to flash her a weak and awkward smile was all he could manage. Showing emotion was difficult to say the least. He’d spent years suppressing his feelings and years ignoring them, shoving them to the darkest places of his psyche so he could get through what was being asked of him. Being numb was preferable to feeling. Now, he wasn’t sure how to filter all those raging emotions in his head to make them consumable by people around him. How was he supposed to act around this woman?

“Thank you,” he murmured, pulling away and perching the rolls on the edge of his full plate. Her Christmas music was still playing and, for the first time since he’d entered the apartment, he recognized the song. It was White Christmas, but sung by someone other than Bing Crosby. It was an easy song to remember, though. It had been released the last Christmas he’d spent at home, unencumbered by what the world would eventually throw at him–the War, imprisonment, experiments, blood, death, the constant struggle to find himself and failing every single time. It reminded him of all that lost innocence and zeal for life that he’d lost along the way.

“Your hair is wet.”

He looked over at her, jarred out of his thoughts by her voice. “It’s snowing,” he said, glancing to his left out the window. Fat flakes of snow could be seen cutting through the yellowish lights set along a winding path across the lawn. His apartment overlooked the back of the property. Beyond the fence were acres of forest.

“You never wear a coat,” she said.

He looked back over at her, probably with a puzzled face.

“When you run,” Darcy amended. “You never wear a coat, even when it’s cold.”

Bucky looked down at the food on his plate and picked up a fork. “I don’t get cold.”

“Must be nice,” she said.

As soon as her response was out of her mouth, he realized what he’d said was a lie. It was one he was so accustomed to saying that sometimes it felt like the truth. It was a lie he’d told to everyone because the truth made him uncomfortable, made him feel weak. He opened and closed his mouth twice before he finally said, “I lied.”

She bit into a roll and tilted her head to look over at him. They were so close, only a foot of space between him, and he felt like maybe he could be honest in this little bubble she’d created with the strands of lights hung on his walls, the dinner laid out before him, the music playing in the background as it reminded him of better times.

“I’m always cold. It’s… normal for me now. I… I can’t remember not feeling this way,” he said softly, focusing his attention on the plate of food. He wanted to eat, but his stomach was in knots.

When he finally looked up and over at her, she had a little crease between her brows like she was thinking hard or, perhaps, upset about something. In a moment, it was gone and those expressive eyes were focused on him again. “Maybe it just takes time,” she offered. “I’m sure a coat wouldn’t hurt, though.”

She was so warm–her eyes and her breath and her body. Bucky closed his eyes and slipped down into some mad fantasy where he was allowed to touch her, where he could wake up with her half on top of him and actually feel like he wasn’t still frozen inside. “Yeah,” he replied, opening his eyes and looking down at the plate again.

Darcy reached over and picked up his fork, Spearing a small piece of turkey, she held it just below his bottom lip. “You’re gonna give me a complex if you don’t eat my food,” she said.

He forced a smile that he wasn’t sure managed to manifest and dipped his head down to wrap his lips around the tines of the fork. Gently, he lifted his right hand and laid his fingers over hers, pulling the fork out of his mouth. She didn’t let go immediately, and all he could feel was the heat of her skin, reminding him that not everything in his life was cold now. She was a little ball of flames. Idly, he wondered if she’d burn him alive. That would be okay, maybe even something he wanted. Definitely something he wanted.

The turkey was warm from the oven and juicy. It was much better than what the on-site cafeteria offered. For a brief moment, everything was perfect. The song playing, the taste of the food in this mouth, the warmth of her hand in his. With what felt like hesitation, she pulled away from him, leaving him holding the fork just below his mouth. He ventured a glance over at her, but she was digging into her mashed potatoes. Seeing the gravy dripping off her fork made something click in his mind, and suddenly he was ravenous.

Bucky shoved a slice of turkey and some of her creamy, buttery mashed potatoes in his mouth before he devoured a roll and half the green beans on his plate. Within a couple minutes, he was sopping up the remaining gravy with another roll she’d slipped onto his plate while he wasn’t looking.

“Uh, so you were hungry?” she asked. Her plate was still nearly full. He would have felt ashamed or embarrassed if the food weren’t so good or if her voice had been accusatory. Instead, she’s sounded proud. Good, he thought. She should be proud. The food was the best he’d had since forever ago, and she was even more perfect.

Finally, he answered her with, “I guess I was,” before filling his plate again. She just chuckled and shook her head in wonder. “I still don’t know what made you want to do this for me,” he said.

“I got your name.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “but you went out of your way to trade for it. You don’t even know me.”

Darcy was quiet for a moment as she chewed and swallowed the food in her mouth. Licking her lips, she said, “I feel like I do.” He watched her smile at him, looking just a little uncomfortable with her admission. “Sorry if that sounds weird or… presumptuous or whatever.” Laughing, she said, “Presumptuous is, like, my middle name or something. I just busted up into your place. I mean, shit, in hindsight, this isn’t the type of thing you do to someone who is super private. Why didn’t you kick me out? Why weren’t you mad?”

“Don’t apologize,” he told her. “You can break into my apartment anytime if you cook me dinner.”

She gave him a strained smile. “Thanks, Sergeant Sexy. But for real, though, I’m sorry for… invading your space.”

“I’m not upset about it, Darcy. Really. Maybe I needed a little push. You’re intimidating.”

He watched her nearly choke on the turkey she’d just put in her mouth. “Intimidating, my ass,” she said around the mouthful of food.

“Your face gives away how fast your mind works. You’re… witty and… smart and outspoken.” And pretty, he wanted to add, but didn’t.

“According to my mother, these are bad traits to have. A mind that won’t shut up, smart-mouthed, loud…” She counted off the points with stabs of her fork into the green beans.

Bucky shrugged and tucked into his second plate. “All in the perspective,” he offered. “I like those traits.”

She turned in her chair to face him. He was too much of a chicken to actually turn to press his knees to hers and look her in the eyes, though. Instead, he ducked his head down and shoveled mashed potatoes into his mouth.

“Wait,” she said. He could hear the grin in the tone of her voice, and it made him want to smile with her. “Are you saying you _like_ me? Sergeant Sexy, the best ass in the Avengers, might want to be my friend. Hoo, boy.”

“That really is ridiculous nickname, doll.” He said, not daring to look over at her beautiful face for fear that he’d get swept up in some doomed fantasy.

“Oh. My. God. If you’re gonna call me doll and tell me you think I’m neat, then I might just fall out of this chair. You’ll have to give me CPR.”

“For your cracked head?” he asked. “I don’t think CPR works for that.”

Darcy snapped her fingers in disappointment. “Damn. I was hoping you’d fall for that and I’d get a CPR kiss.”

“Is that how you normally ask a guy to kiss you?” He couldn’t believe these words coming out of his mouth. Saying them felt like the ghost of who he’d been was inhabiting this new body, this new him. Once upon a time, he’d known how to talk to women. Bucky had thought he’d forgotten, but maybe he just hadn’t met the right dame.

“ _Normally_ , I don’t have to ask,” she told him, turning back to her plate. “But _normally_ , I’m not propositioning someone approximately eight steps out of my league.”

“I ain’t out of your league. Maybe you’re out of mine,” he murmured softly.

She threw her head back and laughed. It was husky and sexy and went straight to his gut. “Oh, that was a good one, Bucky. _Real_ funny. I think you need to join me in reality.”

“You don’t think you’re… pretty?”

She glanced over and gave him a wry smile. “Sure, I’m _pretty_. When I slip on my favorite little black dress, then I’d might rate as hot, but… you…. You’re hotter than hot.”

He could feel his cheeks warming with a flush. It felt good. Everything felt good, actually. These silly Christmas songs, the food, her. It was all safe and comforting and _warm_. Warm. The thought made him giddy, something he hadn’t felt since… since before he’d been shipped off to Europe to fight that damn war. As much as he wanted to tell her how good she made him feel or thank her for her company, he didn’t know how. He had those flashes of being at ease with words and then he’d realize he couldn’t find the right ones any longer.

“You’re blushing,” she said, leaning over and lightly bumping her shoulder into his right arm.

“Your fault,” Bucky replied. Feeling bold, he added, “Why didn’t you wear the little black dress if it evened the playing field?”

Darcy laughed again. It was that gorgeous full-throated one with her head back and the corners of her eyes all crinkled up in joy. He’d done that; it felt amazing. When she recovered her composure, she said, “I’m saving that for New Years Eve. Still looking for a date, so…”

A date. With her. What a fucking dream that would be. She was all red lips and soft hair, curvy hips and shapely legs, not to mention her very voluptuous chest. He could only be so lucky as to have the chance to put his hand at the small of her back as they walked into the room or curl his fingers into the spot where her hips tapered into her waist or to breathe in her scent as he stood close. Or, maybe even go home with her and let her push him back into her bed while she shimmied and pulled the skirt of the dress up her thighs.

Bucky swallowed and licked his lips. “Doll, I’d ask you in a heartbeat if I thought I could manage the crowd of people that will be there.”

“I’ll take what I can get,” she told him with a kind smile. “A so-sorry-I-can’t from you is better than an enthusiastic yes from my usual type.”

“I mean it, Darcy.”

She glanced over at him, probably seeing all that seriousness and anxiety on his face. Her grin faltered, and she sighed. “I know you mean it, and I appreciate it. Raincheck, maybe? Next New Year’s Eve?”

“Raincheck,” he agreed. Not that he actually thought he’d ever get to the point where all those ideas in his head of a night out with her being _normal_ would actually ever come true. She’d wise up and find a guy who could treat her like she should be treated before he could figure out how to be there for her in _that_ way.

They finished their dinner in silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable or awkward. She had such an easy way about her that being with her seemed to require little effort on his part. She finished first and watched him fill a third plate with an indulgent smile. Bucky finished quickly before leaning back and sighing.

“How was it?” she asked. “The best dinner you've had this decade or the best dinner you've had period?”

He chuckled and rolled his head to look at her, feeling content and lazy with his stomach full and the warmth of her presence surrounding him. “Best ever, period,” Bucky assured her.

“You're gonna make me swoon,” she said with wink. 

“You mean I don't have to pull out the big guns to do that?” 

“Oh, god, what are the big guns? Because I'm getting some dirty ideas about that.” Her blue eyes were wide and expressive.

Bucky laughed softly again. “Mmm, the big guns are calling you doll and telling you that it was the best dinner ever because I shared it with you.”

“Fuuuuck, dude. That might be better than the big guns I was thinking about.”

“What were you thinking about?” 

“Uh, your arms. And maybe some other things we won't mention.” She blanched and said, “You aren't gonna report me for sexual harassment, are you? Fury made me to go sensitivity training a few months ago because I made Parker blush.”

“What?” Bucky hadn't intended for his voice to squeak like that.

“Parker. Don’t worry, I usually go for older guys. Parker’s like the kid brother I never wanted. Doesn't mean I can't embarrass him, though.”

“Doll.”

She mimed a swoon as she tipped sideways in her chair and reached out to grab his right arm. “That old timey talk just gets to me,” Darcy told him.

Bucky laughed and helped her sit upright again, his flesh and blood hand firmly holding her bicep. The music had just stopped. Suddenly, they were so very close with his hand on her skin in the silence of his apartment. Alone. 

He let go of her and pulled his hand away. “Sorry.”

“Hey, no apologies, Sergeant Sexy. I am a touch at will zone for sure. Or at least I am for you.” Another wink and a grin were shot his way, making him wonder what it would be like if he asked her to stay the night. It was becoming a familiar fantasy, playing on repeat in his twisted little mind. “I'll clean up and leave you in peace. You're probably at your company limit tonight.”

“No, I can clean up. You've… done more than enough. I'm… very… I—, I'm very thankful for dinner and the music and decorations and… and you.”

“Stop making me feel all mushy gushy inside. You're not playing fair.”

Yeah right, he thought. She wasn't playing fair. He was in over this head. “Thank you all the same, Darcy.”

She slipped off her stool and shoved a hand in a pocket of her faded jeans, pulling out three little business cards. She fanned them out and presented them to him. “Last piece of your Secret Santa present,” Darcy told him and she wiggled her feet into her shoes.

Bucky took the cards from her and looked down at them. They were all identical, and each one was a coupon. They reminded him of the cards in Monopoly that allowed you to get out of jail free.

_This card entitles the holder to one rescue from an awkward or unwanted social situation by Darcy Lewis._

He couldn't help but chuckle. “This is perfect. Thank you, doll.”

“Use them wisely,” she told him with feigned gravity in her voice. She stretched, and his eyes darted down to look at the skin revealed between the waist of the jeans and the hem of her fuzzy green sweater as it lifted.

“I will,” he murmured, trying to reel in his scattered thoughts.

“Sure you don't want help with the cleanup?” 

“No, doll, you've done more than your share. Thank you for the best Christmas dinner. I owe you one.”

She put her hand on his doorknob and turned around. “Oh, yeah? You seem like a good person to have in my debt.”

“Why is that?” 

“I bet you don't give out too many favors.” She opened the door, glancing back at him before she stepped into the hallway. 

“I don't, but I probably owe you more than one.”

“I'm thinking a good use of my favor might be to see you shirtless, but I'm gonna need some more time to ruminate.”

“Doll, you don't need a favor to see me shirtless.”

She laughed that husky, sexy laugh that made his gut clench up in anticipation, and then she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll have the final chapter posted tomorrow. I will give Bucky a sweet and fluffy ending with a hopeful future. Thank you to everyone who is reading and has commented to let me know you're here and enjoying it. It makes me a happy author. Ya'll are the best!


	3. Chapter 3

So, maybe she’d gained five pounds. Darcy blamed that on the cafeteria’s bomb mac and cheese. They used real colby cheese that made it more chewy and gooey. Fuck that mac and cheese. If she bent over, then the probability of busting the zipper that went up the back of the black dress was pretty fucking high. Okay, she thought, maybe she’d gained ten pounds. Whatever. It was the damn mac and cheese. New year, new Darcy. She’d cut back to only getting it twice a week, and she’d start working out. Maybe she’d get to stare at Bucky Barnes as he lifted weights or just stood in the mirrored gym and looked like the hottie he was. She hadn’t seen him since their dinner on Christmas Eve, not even on his runs around the building. It was disappointing, but not surprising.

She knocked back the rest of her champagne and plucked another flute off the serving tray that just went past, carried by one of Tony’s robotic endeavors. It was five minutes after eleven, and she was counting the minutes to midnight. The ball would drop, she could drop the zipper on her too-tight dress, and then she could drop her ass right into bed like a fuddy duddy who has forgotten to have fun. Jane was two sheets to the wind and laughing at a joke that Clint Barton had just told. Everyone knew that Clint’s jokes sucked. Everyone. Guess she wasn’t drunk enough to appreciate them as much as Jane.

“How did Christmas Eve dinner go?”

She jerked her head to the side and found Steve Rogers in all his beefy-boy-next-door glory standing beside her in a suit and tie that looked way too good on him for it to be legal. “It went,” she said.

“Bucky wouldn’t give me any of his leftovers. Said he wanted them for himself,” Steve said, leaning in so she could hear his voice over the music being pumped through the sound system. “Sounded like he really appreciated your present.”

Darcy nodded her head. “Seemed that way.”

“He’s still having a hard time with… people and life and… everything.”

She smiled at Steve. “Are you trying to smooth things over because he hasn’t spoken to me for a week?”

“He wants to.”

Punching Steve lightly on the arm, she said, “I know. I’m not mad. Tell him that I’m available as a private chef if he’s available as a personal trainer. This dress is too tight, and I just decided I’m going to be a total idiot and make one of those resolutions where I say I’m going to exercise, but only do it for, like, two weeks.”

“I’ll let him know,” Steve said. He brought his hand up to cup her elbow gently. “Hey, thank you for going out of your way to do something for him, Darcy. I appreciate it, and I hope you know that he does, too. Even if he can’t tell you himself.”

“Don’t sweat it, Captain Hottie. All in a day’s work.”

Steve gave her one of those winning smiles and moved toward the bar where Sharon and Natasha were talking. Darcy sipped the champagne and smiled at Jane’s snorting laughter before downing half the glass in one go. It had only been five minutes. _Five_? It had felt like twenty. Come on, midnight.

She swept her eyes across the room. It was dim with little fairy lights strung from the ceiling over the dance floor which had been empty a moment ago. A slower song had started, and a few couples moved toward the empty space that stood between Darcy and the door. At least she just lived upstairs. She could have a few more glasses of champagne, maybe a mixed drink or three, and take the elevator up to pass out in her bed. That’s what New Year’s Eve was for, right?

Forty-five more minutes and counting.

She finished off her glass and sat it down on the table behind her. When she looked up to see who was dancing besides Sam Wilson and his gorgeous girlfriend, she saw movement in the open doorway. Focusing her attention past the coupes swaying, she saw Bucky Barnes himself standing there in a black suit. He looked like he wanted to flee, despite also looking like the hottest thing around. His gaze caught hers, and she saw him give her a tense, barely there smile before glancing to his right and left.

He skirted the dance floor, his hands flexing open and closed with what she assumed was anxiety. She’d thought he was going toward Steve at the bar, but his eyes were still very much on her. It only took a few moments to realize he was headed her way. Darcy smiled at him. It made him lick his lips and drop his gaze. He was close enough now that she could see his dark eyelashes against his cheeks while he watched his feet cover the final few feet between them. The world and everyone else in the room fell away when he stopped in front of her.

“Hi,” he said, a little breathlessly.

“Hey, Sergeant Sexy. Lookin’ good tonight.”

Bucky huffed out a little breath of amusement and looked up to lock eyes with her. “You too, doll.”

“If you keep calling me doll, then I’ll get the wrong idea.”

Shrugging, he said, “Nah, it ain’t the wrong idea.”

God, was she going to have a heart attack or what? Maybe she’d just pass out. Maybe he’d catch her like her very own prince charming. Everything seemed so surreal.

“I thought you didn’t do parties,” Darcy said.

“Trying to make an effort,” he replied. “Figured I gotta start somewhere, and a good place would probably be here… with you.”

“Me?” Was that squeaky sound her voice?

“Said you didn’t have a date, but you had a dress that… a dress that made…” Bucky laughed softly at himself and dropped his gaze to the ground again, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Sorry,” he murmured.

“Why sorry?”

“I’m trying to flirt with you, but I’m outta practice.”

This time it was her laughing. “No, no,” she told him, “keep going. You’re actually doing a really good job. I was just thinking that I might faint if you keep it up.”

Bucky looked up at her again. “Faint?”

She pressed her arm to her forehead and mimed a swoon.

“I ain’t that good at it, doll.”

“Wanna bet?”

He licked his lips again–a nervous tick, perhaps–and smiled at her. For the first time, it reached his eyes. She could see warmth in his gaze as the corners of his eyes crinkled up.

Clearing her throat, Darcy said, “So, was my dress worth getting gussied up and facing your social anxiety?”

“You in the dress? Yeah, sure.” He paused for a moment before saying, “You look beautiful, doll.”

“Trust me, you look better,” she told him.

He waved away her compliment by pulling his right hand out of his pocket and sweeping it through the air between them. “Sorry I’ve haven’t seen you since Christmas,” he said softly, leaning in to her personal space. “I’m still trying to figure things out. You know that, I guess.”

“What’s there to figure out?”

He pulled in a deep breath and let it out in an audible sigh. “Myself. How to talk to people. How to be around people. What to do when a beautiful dame decides she wants to do nice things for me when I feel like I don’t deserve it.”

“What _do_ you do when this dame decides to do nice things for you?”

He smiled again. “I, uh, decided I should thank her and see if she’d consider dancing with me.” Bucky nodded his head toward the dance floor.

Harry Connick Jr’s What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve was playing, and there were a handful of couples swaying out there with arms wrapped around each other. She hadn’t been expecting an invitation to dance from him. It looked like it was taking everything he had to stand in the room surrounded by people.

“You bet your ass I’ll dance with you.”

He laughed. “So, yes?” he asked, offering her his right arm.

“Yep,” Darcy said, slipping her arm around his and pressing herself into his body a little more than she might have with some other guy she’d spoken to twice. Bucky felt different. Bucky didn’t have mindless conversation that didn’t allow you to get to know him. If he talked with you, then he _talked_ with you. Maybe that was why he didn’t talk to many people and why she felt like she knew him much better than she should have at this point.

When she looked up at his face, his gaze was lowered and firmly on the way her chest was pressed right against his arm. The position made her tits look pretty awesome with the dress pushing them up and in and his arm pushing into her, making her cleavage look a little more pronounced.

“Boob guy?” she asked as they moved toward the dance floor together.

He ripped his gaze away from her chest and let out a disbelieving laugh. “Doll, go easy on me. You’re a little intimidating.”

Stopping on the edge of the dance floor, Bucky turned her to face him and took her right hand in his left. She pulled her hand away and said, “I’m not intimidating, we can do or _not_ do whatever you want. I’m easy.”

His mouth opened as she slipped both her hands up his chest and over his shoulders. It took him a moment to say, “That’s part of the reason you’re so intimidating. I’ve got too many ideas about you, and things are easier when I can tell myself I can’t have this or that. Gets a little scary if I think I can.” Running his finger tips down her arms, from where her wrists were resting on his shoulders to that tender spot on the backside of her upper arm, he said, “What kind of dancing is this?”

“Slow dancing,” she said, moving a little closer until their bodies almost brushed up against one another as she swayed to the music. “Put your hands on me.”

He dipped his head and laughed softly in her ear. “Playing with you is like playing with fire,” he whispered, settling both hands on her hips. His touch was light, barely there. “Like this?”

“Mmm, hmm,” she hummed with a nod.

“Steve looks smug,” he told her.

“Steve is a little shit,” Darcy replied before glancing over her shoulder to see Steve Rogers at the bar, watching them with a grin on his face.

Bucky moved his right hand over her hip and to the small of her back so he could pull her in a little closer. “You know,” he said, “I thought about not coming just because Steve told me I should.”

She moved one hand to the back of his neck. His muscles were tense there. “Why did you come, then?”

“I wanted to see you in the little black dress you told me about. Also, I thought about other guys asking you to dance since you said you didn't have a date, and I got a little jealous.”

Darcy squeezed the back of his neck before pushing her finger tips into his hair and using her nails to scratch his scalp there. It made him shiver and pull her even closer. They were swaying back and forth to the slow music, and her body was pressed firmly against his. He was all hard, coiled muscle and hot breath against her ear. It was giving her goosebumps. “You have no reason to be jealous of anybody,” she whispered.

For a few moments, as the song played and she focused on the way he felt against her, she forgot that she’d been in a hurry to leave the party. She forgot that her dress was too tight and her heels were too high. She forgot that she’d been planning to end the evening passed out in her bed, probably with all her makeup still on. The evening had definitely taken a turn for the interesting, and for the better.

“You know,” Bucky said, softly, his lips almost close enough to brush against her cheek, “I never thought I’d be here right now.”

“Here, where?”

“Here in this room… with you. Dancing.”

“Why?” Darcy asked, truly curious about his answer.

His fingertips moved up her spine to the middle of her back and then lowered to rest at the dip right above her ass. “Seemed like something I couldn’t do.”

All she could see was the expensive fabric of his suit jacket and the twinkling lights hanging from the ceiling over his shoulder. His voice made it feel so intimate, even though they were in a room filled with people. “When did you decide to come say hello?”

“Three days ago,” he replied. It was a surprising answer; she’d thought he’d come on the spur of the moment after he gathered his courage. She hadn’t expected him to plan it out days in advance. “Had to get the suit and… prepare myself.”

“Prepare yourself for what?”

He chuckled, and she could feel the vibration of it in her body, right down to her toes. “For being in this room filled with people. For you.”

“I’m easy; you don’t need to prepare for me.”

Bucky brushed his lips across her forehead, the warmth of his breath caressing her skin. “I want you to…”

When he trailed off, unable to finish his sentence, she said, “What?” You want me to what?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I want you to think I’m… I’m worth your time.”

The song ended, and a more upbeat one started playing. Bucky let go of her and stepped back to create space between them. “You _are_ worth my time,” she replied, looking at him in the eye, willing him to believe her. He dropped his gaze, and Darcy felt that wave of disappointment hit her hard. Maybe her evening _was_ going to go like she’d thought after all. He was probably on the verge of leaving now that he’d thanked her with the dance.

She watched him reached into his left pants pocket and pull something out. Bucky cleared his throat and said, “I know it’s New Year’s Eve and you wanted to be at this party, but…” She looked down and saw his vibranium left hand pinching a card between the thumb and forefinger. It was one of the cards she’d given him for Christmas–the free rescue from a social situation.

Darcy smiled. “Did you plan this?”

“Plan what?”

“To come in here and sweep me off my feet and then pull out that card so we have an excuse to leave.”

Bucky looked a little guilty. “Well…”

She didn’t let him finish. Instead, she took the card out of his hand and looped her right arm around his left. The unyielding prosthetic only felt a little strange. It was still shaped like and moved like a real arm. “Let’s get outta here, Sergeant Sexy.”

“Doll, that really is a terrible nickname,” he told her as they made their way to the door.

Darcy narrowed her eyes and said, “But you kinda like it a little, right?”

“Maybe it’ll grow on me,” he conceded.

The halls were empty and quiet. She hadn’t noticed exactly how good Bucky smelled until she was alone with him, her body pressed up against his arm as they took the elevator to his floor.

“Are you trying to get me back to your place so I can make you dinner again?” she teased.

He chuckled. “I wouldn’t stop you. Steve tried to eat the leftovers, but…”

“He told me you wouldn’t give ‘em up,” she said, interrupting.

They stopped in front of his door. “What else did he tell you?” Bucky asked.

“Not much. He’s still got your back even if he let the riff raff in your apartment.”

Bucky unlocked and opened his door. “No, I’m glad he did that. One of the best things he’s done for me lately, and he’s done a lot.”

“Letting me crash your Christmas Eve is right up there with saving your life, huh?” she teased.

He let her go inside first and followed behind. “You think I’m joking, but I’m not,” Bucky told her, shutting the door and leaning back against it. She turned around and saw how tired he looked. “You've changed things,” he said, the back of his head resting against the door.

“For the good?” she asked, putting the card he'd handed her on his breakfast bar and slipping off her heels. 

“Of course,” Bucky replied. “I know I haven't acted like it lately, but… I… I appreciate what you've done.”

“Bucky, I cooked you dinner and hung some Christmas lights.” Darcy turned to survey his living room. “I see you left the decorations up.”

“I like them,” he said, pushing off the door and walking toward her. He looked anxious, like he didn't know what came next or what she expected.

“It's twenty ‘til midnight. We still have time to watch the ball drop in Times Square.”

“No, we don't. It’d take too long to get there.”

She rolled her eyes and turned to find the remote on his coffee table. Too bad she couldn't bend over to pick it up without fear of blowing a seam in her dress or passing out. “Ah, fuck,” Darcy muttered. “Can you get the remote and turn your TV on? We can watch it air live from your comfy couch.”

He watched her with those observant eyes for a moment before he moved around her and picked up the remote. “Is your dress too tight? It looks pretty… tight.” 

“Well, there goes all the secrets of my feminine wiles.” Darcy watched him smile before flipping on the TV. She took the remote from him and found the right channel. “Do you think–” she started to say.

“Do you want to borrow something to wear?” he asked, interrupting her question. What a mind reader; she'd been about to ask him for a shirt.

“Yeah, you'd be my hero forever if you hook me up with a big shirt. I promise to return it.”

He ducked his head down and moved toward the bedroom. “You don't have to return it,” Bucky told her.

Well then. Maybe she'd just keep it to fuel her dirty fantasies. When she followed him into the bedroom, he handed over a black T-shirt so soft he must have worn it more than a few times and a pair of black cotton boxers.

“Is this okay?” he asked, looking nervous again. It was like he didn't want to disappoint her. If only he knew that disappointing her was something he'd be hard-pressed to do.

Darcy accepted the clothes and said, “Perfect.” Shutting herself up in the bathroom, she removed the dress after a few minutes of struggling and slipped on the boxers and shirt. They smelled a little like him, and Darcy didn't think it was creepy at all that she buried her nose in the collar of the shirt to breathe in his scent. Nope, not even a little creepy. 

When she came out, he was in the living room in a pair of gray sweatpants and a white tee. Looking that good in sloppy clothes should be illegal. “Hey,” she said, walking around him and the coffee table so she could sit on the couch. His eyes tracked her movements. “What?” she asked, folding one leg beneath herself as she sat down in the middle of the couch.

Bucky shook his head. “Nothing. You just… you look… nice.”

She raised her brows before looking down at the shirt with sleeves that nearly came down to her elbows. It was so long it barely revealed the boxers she was also wearing. “Nice, huh?”

“Mmm,” he replied, slipping his gaze away and focusing on the floor. She saw his left hand flex. The construction of the prosthetic was so nuanced and complicated that it was beautiful and difficult to consider a weapon.

“This is definitely a downgrade from the dress. The dress was just a little too tight and one bend from busting a seam.”

“It’s not a downgrade, doll. You’d look nice in anything.” He looked so shy as he said it, unable to meet her eyes. She watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed.

Maybe he was the hottest guy she’d ever seen, but he definitely wasn’t the most confident. It was a little surprising since most super attractive people tended to know exactly where they ranked. “Come sit with me,” she said, patting the cushion next to her.

Bucky moved toward the couch and exhaled a deep breath before sitting down next to her, leaving space so they weren’t touching.

“Do I make you nervous?” she asked him.

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No.”

“You make me nervous sometimes, too.”

He looked over at her, his eyes wide and his lips parted. “Do _you_ want to leave? I… I just assumed you’d come back here with me when we left the party. I… You don’t have any reason to be afraid of me. I… I’d never hurt…”

Darcy smiled and cut him off before he could continue by saying, “No, not nervous like you’re going to hurt me. Nervous like… like I’m intimidated by you. Like you’re out of my league.”

Bucky’s mouth opened and closed a couple times before he finally said, “Me too. About you. I don’t know what you expect out of me, but I want to… I want to live up to whatever you…” He sighed and shook his head. “I’m not good at this,” he admitted. “It’s exhausting.”

“Good at what?”

He gestured to the space between them. “This. Conversation, flirting, trying to make you feel like I’m worth your time.”

Laughing softly in disbelief, she said, “Bucky, you don’t have to try. I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t already decided you’re worth my time.” She shifted until she was next to him their thighs touching and her shoulder pressed against his. “I don’t have expectations. We’re watching the ball drop on TV, and then I’m passing out because I’ve gotten, like, five hours of sleep in the past twenty-four hours.”

“I don’t scare you?” he asked, lifting his right arm so she could settle against his side. Darcy smiled when she felt his arm come down over her shoulders.

“Nope,” she told him, snuggling into his body. After a moment’s pause, she said, “Maybe that’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

“What is?” he asked.

“This. I’ve never been in a situation where we’re both a little nervous around each other. It’s usually me or him, not both. You think this is how it’s supposed to go?”

His warm breath ghosted over her scalp. “Maybe. Probably. Feels new to me, too.”

The sound on the television was low, a soft hum she could barely hear. She watched as the camera panned over a crowd of people in puffy jackets and silly hats or even sillier glasses that displayed the year. “You said you’re usually cold, but you’re actually pretty hot.” Darcy chuckled, and added, “Not hot like you look hot, but hot like you feel hot.”

“Actually,” he murmured, his lips brushing her hair and making her shiver, “I’m feeling pretty warm right now.”

“Oh, yeah?” she asked, pulling back a little and looking up at his face.

“Yeah. It’s been awhile since I’ve felt warm. It's… been a long time. ”

“How long?”

He sighed and looked down at her with so much tenderness that she was sure she’d just melt into the couch cushions. “A very long time.”

She turned back to the TV, smiling to herself. “Good. I’m available for cuddling if you ever feel like you’re too cold.”

“Might take you up on that offer, doll.”

“Do it, Sergeant Sexy. I’d be honored to warm you up.”

He laughed softly and tightened his arm around her shoulders. “Still don’t know about that nickname.”

“It’ll grow on you,” she reminded him.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

They sat in silence and watched the hosts of the New Year’s Eve program interview people. They watched a singer perform one of her songs and couples kissing as the camera panned over the crowd. The clock at the bottom of the screen counted down the minutes until midnight. Five more.

“Do you think you’ll have a good year?” she asked Bucky, keeping her eyes on the television.

“I hope so,” he replied. “Didn’t think it would be much different than the last until just recently.”

“I fucked up your plans.”

His laugh was breathy and sweet. “No, doll, you didn’t fuck up anything. You’re perfect. More than I deserve. If I'd have known what to get you, I'd have tracked down your secret Santa and traded.”

“Fury had me.”

Bucky chuckled. “What'd he get you?” 

Darcy looked up at him and smiled. “Money.”

“Money?”

“Mmm hmm. He got me a raise. Ten grand more a year. I'm rich now.”

“That’s nice of him.”

She turned into him, curled her right arm around his body, and laid her cheek against his chest. “He's a marshmallow.” After a moment of silence, Darcy said, “What would you have gotten me anyway?” 

“No idea. Ain't got much to give.”

“A date?” 

He trailed the tips of his fingers up her spine, making Darcy shiver. “You can get a date whenever you want,” he murmured into the hair on the top of her head.

“A date or a date with _you_?”

“Both, I'm sure, but I meant a date with me.”

“Sold. You name the time and the place,” she replied, squeezing him tighter.

“Anytime, but can we start here? Can we start in my place or your place?”

“Sure,” Darcy answered immediately. “Of course.”

He inhaled, his nose in her hair. “Maybe you can teach me how to cook. I could repay you by making you dinner one night.”

“Ugh, you’re too perfect. That ass _and_ you wanna make me dinner.”

Bucky’s laugh was breathy as he brushed the back of her neck with his fingers.

“It’s almost a new year,” she said, watching the clock on the bottom of the TV countdown to midnight. Two more minutes. This was definitely not a bad way to start a year. Not much could beat being curled up on the couch with a hot guy who seemed like he genuinely cared, like he actually appreciated her.

“You know, back in my day–”

She laughed at his turn of phrase, interrupting him.

Bucky pulled her closer with his arm around her. “Back in my day,” he started again, “the tradition was that you kiss for good luck when the clock strikes midnight.”

“Oh yeah? Interesting,” Darcy replied. “That’s still a thing, you know.”

“Is it?”

She laughed again, lifting her head to look up at him. “Yes, but I think you already knew that.” His blue eyes that could look so cold were actually looking at her with overwhelming warmth. His lips were parted just the slightest bit, enough to make her lick her lips in anticipation.

“You much for tradition?” Bucky whispered.

“Nah, not really,” she answered. “But I _am_ all about kissing you.”

They both glanced at the television. Thirty seconds. The crowd was going wild, cheering and waving party favors in the air.

“This is… like a dream,” Bucky said.

“What is?”

“Being here with you. Seems like some crazy dream.”

“Nightmare?”

He let out a laugh and looked down at her. “No, doll.”

The people on television were counting down now. Ten, nine…

“You gonna kiss me, Sergeant Sexy?”

Eight, seven, six…

“You gonna let me, doll?”

Five, four, three…

“Mmm, hmm,” she said. They were still sitting side by side on the couch, thighs pressed together and his right arm slung over her shoulders, curling her into his body. She’d wrapped her right arm around his torso and lifted her chin to look into his eyes.

Two, one…

She watched him flick his tongue out to lick his lips and knew it was probably a nervous tick, but it still made heat pool in her gut. “Happy New Year,” she whispered.

“Happy New Year, doll,” Bucky whispered back before he bent his head down until his lips were a fraction of an inch from her own.

Darcy could feel the warmth of his breath on her mouth. “Thought you were gonna kiss me. It’s tradition, right?” she asked.

“I’m nervous,” he said softly.

“Me too, remember? We were going with the idea that us both being nervous is a good thing.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, finally tilting his chin up and brushing his lips over hers. It was a fluttering, chaste kiss. She parted her lips and caught his lower one between them right as she slipped her hand over his shoulder and around to cup the back of his head.

Bucky inhaled sharply, and when he did, he parted his lips. She opened her mouth and deepened the kiss, holding him firmly in place. He didn’t seem to mind at all as he let her drive. She’d have never guessed that the ultra competent, cold-eyed former assassin would melt in her hands. He was like putty as she grabbed a fistful of his dark hair and slipped her tongue out to run it along his pouty bottom lip.

Darcy was so lost in the way his tongue met hers that she didn’t register his left arm–that intimidating prosthetic–had lifted and was now cupping the back of her head oh-so-gently.

He was tentative with just that little edge of eagerness that made her melt into his body. His tongue touched hers briefly before he pulled it back. Darcy chased him with her own tongue until he reciprocated, sliding it along the side of hers and into her mouth. His fingers curled into her hair, gentle and reverent.

When she pulled back to take a breath, he pressed his forehead into hers. She could feel his breath on her wet lips. “That was better than I remember,” he whispered, his eyes closed.

When he opened them, she chuckled and squeezed the back of his neck. “We should do it more often,” Darcy said with a grin.

Her response made him laugh and tilt his head to give her a quick kiss on the lips before he pulled back and let his prosthetic hand fall away from her head. “Anytime you want, doll.”

“Uh, that would be _all the time_ , Sergeant Sexy.” She tapped her finger lightly on his breastbone, feeling giddy and high on infatuation. “Oops, I forgot you don’t like that nickname.”

“Mmm, it _is_ growing on me.”

“Is it?”

He settled his arm around her shoulder again and pulled her close. “Well, _you’re_ growing on me.”

Darcy laid her head on his chest. “Am I?” she asked, feeling that pleasurable squirming heat in her stomach that told her that this–whatever it was–could end up being something important.

“Of course,” he murmured, his lips brushing over the top of her head.

She unsuccessfully tried to stifle a yawn with the back of her hand. Bucky chuckled at her and pressed a soft kiss to the crown of her head. “You’re tired, and I should let you go back to your place, but…”

When he trailed off, she lifted her head to look up at him. “But what?”

He looked so serious and just a little terrified when he said, “But I don’t want to let you go just yet.”

Her heart melted and she settled down against him again. “You don’t have to,” she replied softly.

///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\///\\\\\

It was just after one o’clock in the morning. Bucky had made her a sandwich shortly after midnight, and she’d fallen asleep beside him on the couch right after she finished it. Her head was nestled into the dip where his right shoulder met his arm. He shifted his hips and settled further into the couch, pulling her closer when she roused. Darcy sighed and laid her head back down, never fully waking.

Bucky looked at the way her dark lashes fell against her skin, at the rose pink of her full lips that were parted just slightly, and found that his breath caught in his throat. She was beautiful and, as unlikely as it seemed, she was _his_. At least, for the the moment, she was his. He planned to try his hardest to make sure that continued. If someone had asked him a little over a month ago if he thought he’d be here in his apartment with his arm around a gorgeous woman who wanted him _and_ made him feel comfortable in his own skin, he’d have denied it. And yet, here he was with her, falling so quickly and feeling so content that it was almost frightening.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. It was Steve calling. Swiping the sensitive thumb of his left hand across the screen, he answered, “Hey, punk.”

“Hey, Buck. Did, uh, Darcy Lewis leave with you?”

“Why you wanna know?” he replied, keeping his voice low.

Steve chuckled. “So, that’s a yes, then.”

“Maybe.”

“Her friends were looking for her. I told them I thought she might have left with you.”

Bucky cringed. “They gonna come knocking on my door to save her?”

“No, her friend Jane said something about being glad Darcy was getting laid.”

“I wouldn’t–” Bucky started to say.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. You like her. You wouldn’t take advantage. I thought she might, though.”

Bucky huffed out a breath of laughter. “So you _were_ trying to get me laid.”

“Not just that, but… figured it wouldn’t hurt things.”

“She makes me feel good, helps me remember what it is like to talk to people, to be normal.”

“Good.” Bucky could hear the smile on Steve’s face in his voice. “Take care of her. A lot of people around here will have your head if you treat her bad.”

“I wouldn’t ever,” he told Steve.

“Happy New Year, ya jerk.”

Bucky grinned. “Happy New Year, punk.”

He disconnected and looked down at the woman wrapped up his his right arm. Her little hand was resting on his stomach. Bucky carefully placed his left hand over it, staring at the stark contrast between her skin and the dark metal of his vibranium hand. How did this happen? A little of her well-intentioned presumption and a little of his desperate courage, probably. He was glad it ended here. Or maybe it was beginning here. He hoped so.

Sweeping his gaze over her face again, he looked back up at the television. An infomercial had just started after the New Year’s Eve special ended. He wasn’t really watching it. His mind was firmly on the woman next to him and realizing for the first time in a very long time that he was looking forward to the year to come.

Bucky smiled to himself, the corners of his eyes crinkling up and his cheeks straining from the broad grin–one that hadn’t adorned his face in decades. It wasn’t all going to be perfect, but he had a feeling that she was going to make the future much better than he thought it ever could be. If that wasn’t something to smile about, he didn’t know what was. Happy New Year, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has left me a note that they read/enjoyed the fic! Your comments mean so much and encourage me to write more in this lovely fandom. I hope this little bit of holiday fluff hit the spot and gave you a reprieve from a stressful/hectic time of year.
> 
> I'm not ruling out a continuation of the story at a later date, but it's not going to happen soon. If I do continue it, I'll add to the existing fic and just bump the number of chapters up. Subscribing to it would get you a notification if it does get updated. I can't make any promises about what direction my muse will go in the coming months, but there are definitely ideas about where this could go swirling in my head.
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr (same username) if you're so inclined. I do occasionally post about the projects I'm working on and provide sneak peeks/excerpts as writing progresses. My ask box there is always open (anonymous or not), and I welcome any messages/notes.
> 
> I hope you all have a fantastic 2018. "See" you then!


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